Sparkling
by Need2Scream
Summary: Prowl's been reverted to a sparkling, but...he doesn't look like Prowl. What is he really? Where does he come from? No Pairings. Rated for later chapters, will have individual chapter warnings.
1. Chapter 1

Ratchet clamped another mainline as Prowl's vitals continued to plummet. The Praxian SIC was still hemorrhaging somewhere, the energon transfusions spurting out as fast as they went in. "Hoist, patch," Ratchet barked. Sparks ignited from incompatible wires brushing together in Prowl's chest. Wrenching his mangled spark cover off and tossing the useless metal away Ratchet cursed with renewed fury. Energon drowned Prowl's weakly pulsing spark, the mainline leading to the chamber torn open and gushing. His spark wasn't strong enough to even singe the pool of energon. In a healthy spark the Primus awful smell of burning energon would have already permeated the med bay. "Primus fraggit! Wheeljack, where the fragging pit is the fuser?" he snarled. He couldn't clamp the mainline so close to Prowl's spark, but the fuser would allow him to make a hasty patch until the line could be replaced.

"Right here," the scientist said almost-not-quite pushing Ratchet out of the way. The medic didn't have time to be fragged off about the shove, Devastator had come terribly close to literally ripping Prowl apart and he wasn't sure he had the skill or luck needed to patch him back together. Unhelpful alarms rang in his HUD as Prowl's vitals continued to drop, auxiliary systems were already offline and primaries were beginning to crash like dominos at spark wrenching rate. Ratchet's energon coated hands stilled as he watched systems one after the other succumb to trauma. There was only so much a frame could take and only so many miracles a medic could perform.

Wheeljack hesitated with him, the fuser that could buy Prowl another breem of struggle or a few more vorns of life poised over the hemorrhaging spark casing. "That's really close to his spark."

"Now, 'Jack," Ratchet snapped. Despite his frame's unwillingness, Prowl's spark was still fighting and Ratchet had never let anyone go without kicking, screaming, and cursing. The calm hum of the fuser offset the cacophony of alarms going off both in his HUD and from the machines hooked up to Prowl's mangled frame. It wasn't until a dull white glow began creeping over Prowl's frame that Wheeljack's tone registered. Hoist kept his hands buried in Prowl's internals even as the light crawled over the damaged wires and lines.

"'Jack, what the frag have you done now?" the assistant asked mildly. Ratchet turned on him with barely contained fury and the scientist cringed. Before he could launch himself at his oldest friend and slam his pit-fragging-glitching-genius-Primus-forsaken helm against the floor the alarms began to taper off.

The dull glow fully covered Prowl's frame and began to brighten to a scintillating white until not even a shadow of Prowl's frame could be seen. Ratchet's optics attempted to compensate for the glow but it proved too bright. Turning his head away Ratchet listened for Prowl but the machines and alarms were almost all quiet now as vitals stabilized.

After half a breem, the glow began to subside and the alarms were quiet. Prowl was stable. His spark pulse a little fast but regular, his pressure a little lower than his normal parameters but given how many mainlines had been ruptured and torn it was a miracle it wasn't still redlining. The three medics could finally look at the repair table and Ratchet almost smacked Wheeljack again for fragging up his optics.

Optics like pools of molten gold looked out from a tiny head, wings too large for his small frame tucked tight and fearful against his back, a sparkling sat in the pools of energon where Prowl had lay dying. There was no recognition in his golden optics, silver coolant tears shimmered on their surface until they overflowed. The sensors Ratchet still had calibrated to Prowl's vitals began to beep again as the sparkling's spark pulse began to accelerate. Terrified wide optics watched the three medics as soundless tears dripped off his chin to splash in the energon.

"Wheeljack," Ratchet said softly. "What the frag have you done?"

A/N: Well, it has been a _hot minute_ since I posted anything anywhere. Thought I'd come back at ya' with something cutesy. Well, as cutesy as I get. I'm a fan of angst so this will have its fluffy moments but also some darker themes.


	2. Chapter 2

_"Jazz, I need you in the med bay. Now."_ The comm. link snapped off after that short charming message. Jazz lowered the volume of his music and rolled off his recharge berth. The whole fragging ship was still waiting to hear about Prowl's condition and, according to the update he got from Blaster, med bay had gone deathly quiet a few breems ago. He would have to ask Ratchet if it was possible for a spark casing to actually squeeze a spark because it felt like his was four sizes too small as he sprinted through the halls. More comm. links pinged him but he muted all of them. If Prowl's spark hadn't almost gone out on the way back to the _Ark_ one or two mechs might have tried to stop him and get an explanation. As it was, the halls were almost deserted, mechs sent away from the med bay by First Aid's gentle, yet firm, presence.

Sliding through the doors without bothering with pleasantries he was prepared for the worst. He hadn't been on the ship that brought Prowl back, but everyone had seen the thick trail of energon leading to the med bay and Red Alert had been locked in his wash rack for the last joor. He'd seen mechs turned inside out by mines, seen them blown apart like fine glass by artillery shells, seen the aftermath of Megatron's torture but running into the med bay he never would have guessed that would be the sight to shock him.

A small sparkling, too large wings curled around his shoulders, as he cried. Fearful gold optics turned to Jazz when he burst in and the quiet sound of his hiccupping intakes was the only sound. Not even after the hard run did Jazz's fans kick on, his entire being shocked almost to the point of offlining. "…Wha…?" he whispered.

"We can't get close to him," Ratchet said in a soft voice. "Not even First Aid. I was hoping he might recognize you but that doesn't look like it's going to work either." A quiet whimper coupled with the hitch in the sparklings intakes made Jazz's spark twist.

"Maybe he doesn't like med bays," Jazz said softly, cautiously taking a few steps forward watching the sparkling. "Primus knows I hated 'em when I was a sparkling." He was still a few meters from the energon covered berth and sparkling. It looked like a scene out of a horror vid. Pools and tracks of energon and internal fluids covered the floor, Ratchet's tools still soaked in slowly drying fluids, and the sparkling sat in the middle of it. "Hey lil' spark," Jazz said softly. "It's a'ight, you're okay." The sparkling whimpered louder when he took another step forward. Jazz held his hands out in front of him and crooned softly until the sparkling quieted again. "You don't wanna be in the med bay anymore? Come on, spark, you can come with me an' we'll get you something to eat." The sparkling stayed tense and terrified. Jazz fell back on his most tried and true method of relaxation.

Soft guitar filled the space between him and the sparkling. _Fall asleep to dreams of home, where the waves are crashing. The only place I've ever known. Now the future has me. I see the fire in the sky, see it all around me. I said the past is dead, the life I had is gone. Said I won't give up until I see the sun. _The sparkling flinched at first but his wings began to unfurl a bit at a time. Jazz sang the chorus softly. "_Hold me now, until the fear is leaving. I am barely breathing."_ He took another step forward and the sparkling didn't pull back. The fear in his optics settled to uneasy wariness. _Waking up and letting go to the sound of angels. Am I alive or just a ghost haunted by my sorrows? Hope is slipping through my hands, gravity is taking hold. Said I'm not afraid, that I am brave enough. I will not give up until I see the sun. _He was almost within arm's reach when he murmured the chorus again, "_Hold me now. Until the fear is leaving. I am barely breathing. Crying out. These tired wings are falling. I need you to catch me."_ The sparkling shied from his hand at first. Optics like hammered gold coins stared straight into Jazz's visor. Retracting his visor he blinked a few times to adjust to the light. _ As I burn. As I break. I can't take it anymore. I return to the place where the water covers over everything. Rescue me, somehow. _A few more tears slid down the sparkling's face and Jazz's spark twisted again. He reached for the sparkling again as he sang, "_Hold me now. Until the fear is leaving. I am barely breathing. Crying out. These tired wings are falling, I need you to catch me. Hold me now. Until the fear is leaving. I am barely breathing."_ The sparkling tensed again but after a few seconds allowed Jazz to add his other hand and gently lift him off the med berth.

"Wheeljack's gone to mix some low grade," Ratchet said softly. Jazz turned his music down to a quiet murmur and started the song over. The sparkling's small head pressed against one of the speakers set in his shoulder. Tremors went through his tiny frame and Jazz raised his internal temperature. The sparkling still watched Hoist and Ratchet with quiet tears.

"What happened? How the frag did we get a sparkling and where's Prowl?" He was trying to remember if anyone had seen Prowl brought on board. He couldn't recall, but he'd been so sick with worry he might have blocked it out.

"You're holding him," Hoist said nodding at the sparkling in Jazz's arms. "Wheeljack did some tinkering," annoyance colored his tone, "with the fuser. He was trying to work it so it didn't just fuse filaments and materials but so it also stimulated growth and regeneration." Ratchet rubbed his helm with his optics pinched shut like he was in pain.

Jazz twisted his neck so he could see part of the sparkling clinging to his armor. "This is Prowl?" Ratchet and Hoist nodded, Ratchet slower than Hoist. "Why's he…he doesn't look like Prowl."

Hoist shrugged and spread his hands. "Wheeljack," he said simply. Jazz rolled his optics to the ceiling.

Ratchet's answer was not as blasé as Hoist's. "He's not a full-blooded Praxian. Whatever regeneration sequence Wheeljack's tinkering engaged it's stripped away any and all modifications he's had." His gaze became distant and more intense. "Prowl's medical files are sealed with restrictions above my rank. I need to talk to Optimus." He blinked and the glare was gone. "Can you handle him for a joor until we figure out how to fix this mess?" he asked with a sigh. Jazz rubbed his cheek against Prowl's little head and nodded.

The first thing he needed to do was get them both cleaned up. Little Prowl was covered in Adult Prowl's energon and now most of Jazz's right side was, too. "I've got 'em. We'll be in my quarters." He nuzzled Prowl's helm again hoping the sparkling would relax. "Prowl, ma' man," he murmured heading for the door. "Have ya' ever relaxed a breem in your life?" The sparkling's hold on his armor tightened when the door opened and frightened tremors shook his frame.

Walking down the quiet halls Jazz continued murmuring to Prowl, the sparkling kept a tight hold on his armor and a wary optic on the walls around them. "You remember where ya' are, Prowler?" Jazz whispered. "This is the _Ark_, Optimus Prime's flagship." The sparkling shivered and tried to bury his head deeper in Jazz's neck. "Ah, lil' spark, it's a'ight." His clawed fingers gently stroked Prowl's armor, delicate sensors on his fingertips giving him a rough outline of just how incredibly different Prowl was. Adult Prowl, like Bluestreak, had a frame type similar to seekers but without the hard lines. Seekers were curved like blades and talons; sharp, narrow, and sleek to cut down on wind resistance. Since Praxians weren't true seekers they were a bit softer with their angles, a little bulkier, but still lithe. Bluestreak looked like he might fly when he walked down the halls; the innate grace of their frame type was something Jazz had trained most of his life to achieve. Now that he was thinking about it, he couldn't remember ever seeing Prowl walk with light or carefree steps. He was always measured, every movement seemed planned or deliberate. He was stiff. His wings didn't move when he walked while Bluestreak's moved with his body.

Reaching his quarters, he kept the lights a little dim for his optics. The brief stint in the med bay and the hallway already had his nocturnal optics aching. Prowl's small head swiveled around the room and his grip loosened. Jazz's quarters were his safe place, his sanctuary, from his function and an oasis from the strident lights the majority of the ship preferred during the daylight hours. Walls painted blue so deep it was almost black seemed to absorb the lines of the sparse equally dark furniture. His surround sound speakers were invisible in the dark corners.

Jazz smiled to himself as the sparkling finally began to relax. "You wanna listen to some more music?" he asked, easily cuing up some songs on his room's sound system. He found some softer songs and made sure the volume was down so he wouldn't injure the sparkling's audios. Ratchet would disassemble him if that happened. Nuzzling Prowl once more, he set the sparkling down on a berth overflowing with slick and soft fabrics that mimicked the cool touch of the water he'd been sparked and raised in. Prowl hesitantly patted the soft blankets and scooted back until he could snuggle down and bury himself in them like Jazz liked to do. Jazz tossed another blanket over him and couldn't get the smile off his face.

"Well, frag," he muttered as he looked the small wash rack over. His plan of hanging out with Prowl in his quarters until Wheeljack redid his calculations was bulletproof. Except for the part where he didn't have a bath in his quarters, only the racks on E deck had those. "Fraggit-slaggit-fraggit," he muttered. Good news, the racks on E deck were rarely used by non-injured mechs. Bad news, he was on B deck and had to go past the rec room to get to the lift to take him to E deck. And _someone_ was going to notice the unfamiliar sparkling in his arms no matter how stealthy he moved. Unless he had someone who could tell him when there was a mech coming and help him get there and back.

He tried to comm. Red Alert with an emergency code and the ping bounced back. The security director had well and truly shut down all communications. Glancing at the lump that was Prowl on his berth he didn't want to think about the condition Devastator had put him in to glitch Red. "Hey, spark," he said crouching down in front of Prowl. Wary, sleepy optics peeked out from the mass of blankets. "You're safe here, spark. I need to go talk to a friend so we can get ya' a bath." Pulling out a small emergency beacon he set it next to Prowl. "I promise, I'm jus' two doors down, just around the corner. I won't be long, but if ya' need me, just press the button an' I'll be here in less than a breem." Prowl shivered and pulled the blankets around him again with a quiet sniffle. "I promise, you'll be jus' fine. Gimme five breems and we'll be on our way to a warm bath an' energon." Maybe a little high grade for him because this orn was the strangest he'd ever had. Brushing his sensitive fingers across the blankets covering Prowl's head he got up and went to the door.

"Red, I really need you to open the door." Jazz said for the fifth time. He'd tried every code he knew and a couple he wasn't supposed to know, but lo and behold, the security director had an excellent lock on his door. He tried pinging Red Alert again and it bounced back like it had the last dozen times. Rubbing his helm and reaching the end of his patience he commed Ratchet, "Can I get the medical override code to Red's room?"

"I'm a hallway over, be there in thirty."

Leaning against the wall Jazz watched the corner with worry, he'd been gone longer than he promised already. Ratchet came around the corner and after a passing glance at his face plates, Jazz made sure he was out of the way or anything that could be misconstrued as in the way. Without preamble, Ratchet punched in the code and the door opened.

"You're supposed to announce your intent to enter before using that code," Red's quiet voice floated out.

"If you'd open your comm. link I wouldn't have had to use it," Ratchet shot back. Jazz walked in behind Ratchet and shut the door, re-engaging the lock. "You've got half this ship panicked you're in here glitching, why didn't you come down to the med bay?" Ratchet continued as he pulled out a scanner and started running diagnostics on the glitchy officer.

Jazz stood in front of Red, out of the way, and didn't bother with small talk, "Red, I need you in the security room for a joor."

The corner of Red Alert's mouth lifted in a humorless smile, his optics a shade too dark and exhausted. "Aren't you usually trying to get me _out_ of the security room?"

"Well, we've got a problem that maybe the whole ship doesn't need to know about."

"Is it Prowl?" Red asked softly. He rubbed his shining hands like there still might be energon on them somewhere.

Jazz nodded and risked getting in the way to brush his fingers along Red's helm. "He's not hurt anymore, but…Wheeljack's been fragging around with things again an' this is definitely not something we need blowin' up our comm. lines." The darkness in Red Alert's optics lessoned a fraction as he raised his head a bit more, no doubt his glitch beginning to act up and spit out Primus only knew how many different theories for what happened to Prowl. Jazz smiled wryly, "Trust me, you'll never guess."

"He's managed to revert Prowl to a sparkling," Ratchet said before Red could guess. Red Alert blinked and his optics brightened to their usual blue. Jazz nodded when suspicion flashed in his optics.

"He's in my quarters right now. An' he's pretty scared so the sooner I can get back to him and get him cleaned up the better we'll both feel." Red Alert blinked once, twice, three times and then nodded in the half-listening way he usually did as he wrestled with a problem.

"Are you done?" he asked Ratchet, already starting to stand.

Ratchet waved him out. "Med bay, first thing in the morning," he ordered. Red nodded and followed Jazz out the door.

"Give me five breems to get to security. I take it you're going to E deck?" Red Alert said at his usual brusque pace. Jazz nodded. He slowed with Jazz as they approached his room.

"You wanna see him?" Jazz asked. He wasn't sure how Prowl would feel about yet another strange mech looking him over, but Prowl was one of the few mechs that could handle Red Alert's occasional glitching without getting frustrated.

Red Alert shook his head. "No, he needs to be taken care of not gawked at." Red Alert's sharp, precise foot falls continued down the hall as Jazz keyed into his room.

Jazz watched him with a half-smile on his face. _"You're a good friend, Red,"_ he said over the comm. link.


	3. Chapter 3

With Red's help, Jazz's convoluted route to E deck kept him undiscovered and now he and Prowl were alone in the warm room. Prowl sat back from the edge, his tiny feet not even sticking over the side, and watched Jazz fuss with the cleansing solution. Personally, he liked baths on the cold side since the waters surrounding and flowing through Polyhex were fed directly from the frigid ocean. The idea of having a sparkling in anything cooler than lukewarm though almost made him glitch. He tried not to think about what the vehement _No_ coming from his processor every time he checked the cleanser meant.

_"Have you ever bathed a sparkling?"_ Red asked softly over the comm. line. Jazz almost wished there was a camera in the wash racks just so he could flip Red a rude gesture. Who on the _Ark_ had ever fragging bathed a sparkling? They were frontliners, saboteurs, assassins, and spies; _not_ sparkling caretakers.

_"Frag no,"_ Jazz replied with an implied optic roll. _"I just keep his intakes from flooding and we're good. How hard can it be?"_ There wasn't a reply and he didn't really expect one. He checked the cleanser once more and his processor didn't come at him like a rabid cyber-wolf so he shut the flow off. Sitting next to Prowl he kicked his feet around in the cleanser to get used to the odd warmth while he talked to the sparkling. "You ready for a bath?" Prowl looked at the quiet solution warily. Jazz chuckled. "Just tell me to go slow, sometimes I forget not everyone loves the water like me." Deciding it would be easier to coax Prowl into the solution if he went in first, he slid forward and into the warm bath. "See, no monsters," he said holding out his arms. Prowl didn't take the bait and instead scooted back a fraction. "Ya' ever been to Polyhex?" Jazz asked, perfectly content to take as much time as needed for the fearful sparkling. "Most bots called it a "swamp city"." He rolled his optics. "Then everyone was always so surprised when they got off the transport and found out it wasn't some scrap town in the middle o' the marshes but an actual city. We was one of a kind. I mean, we started out a scrap town, but we built up from that. Part of the city was flooded, that's where we lived, took me a long time after goin' to Iacon to get used to not having water 'round me while I recharged. Everyone thought our homes were condemned, they couldn't figure out how we lived in water up to our hip joints." He sighed wistfully.

Prowl's tiny feet now hung over the edge of the bath as he listened with wide golden optics to Jazz's soft, hoarse voice. Jazz smiled and started to tell him about the canals Polyhex used like other cities used trains and transports when the door slid open. He was up and out of the bath like he'd never been there, standing in front of Prowl, ready to dissuade anyone from coming any further into the room. "Relax," Red Alert said softly.

Jazz's shoulder joints relaxed but he stayed in front of Prowl, not certain how Red Alert might react to seeing how incredibly different Prowl was. "Ya' could'a warned a mech," he said good naturedly. "Jus' about scared me outta my spark."

Red lifted and dropped one shoulder. "I knew you would argue if I told you I was coming." With a smooth step to the side he was in a position to see Prowl huddled on the floor behind Jazz. Without a hitch, he dropped to his knees with a soft smile on his faceplates Jazz had never seen before. "Prowl?" he murmured. The sparkling's tiny frame pressed closer to Jazz's leg while Red continued speaking. "Little spark, you are filthier than Hound when he's been out and about," his soft voice didn't echo in the quiet room. Jazz glanced down at Prowl and found the sparkling peeking out from behind his legs at the quiet mech with wary curiosity.

"That's Red Alert," Jazz supplied softly. "You two always have breakfast together." Prowl looked up at him and then back at Red Alert. To Jazz's surprise, the sparkling left the safety of his legs and crawled the handful of steps to Red. Red Alert gently picked Prowl up and cradled him against his chest, Prowl's tiny winglets draped over his arm. Prowl clicked softly and Red Alert's smile widened and he crooned softly. Jazz watched with a slightly dumbfounded expression, he could feel his mouth hanging open, and couldn't stop blinking.

"Did you recalibrate the cleanser?" Red Alert asked softly, using his free hand to rub small circles on Prowl's head until the sparkling's optics darkened with recharge.

"Wha?" Jazz asked, still utterly floored. Twitchy, glitchy Red Alert was the best security director in the army, his base defenses some of the hardest to crack, his intuitive knowledge Decepticon base defenses had saved countless SpecOps; but if a mech had paid Jazz to believe he was good with sparklings he would've told him to keep the credits.

Red Alert took his unintelligent answer in stride. "The cleanser is currently calibrated for not only adults, but adult soldiers. The concentration levels will burn through his thin exoform straight into his endoform." That snapped Jazz out of his stupor. He flinched back from the cleanser solution and cycled a long intake of air. The voice in his processor that had been glitching at him about temperature suddenly roared to life and almost dropped him to his knees. Red Alert took notice and while Prowl lightly recharged in his arms he stood and walked over to Jazz. "You are a Creator?" Red Alert said softly with no shortage of surprise.

Jazz rubbed his helm above his optics and nodded. "Not somethin' I like to broadcast." He grimaced as more of his coding began to come online. He was pretty sure most of the other mechs and femmes in SpecOps were Sire sparks which suited them more for the often violent missions they were assigned. Most Creators were washed out before basic even ended, but Jazz had never hesitated even on the more unpleasant portions of his job. "Primus," he swore softly. "It's gonna be a kel before I get this mess under control." Mostly, he'd stayed undetected because he managed to keep his coding offline, not even one line partway active. All that was over now.

Red Alert seemed confused by his annoyance. "I was unaware there were mechs who didn't like their coding," he said softly. His helm dipped down and pressed against Prowl's chevron for a second. The sparkling clicked in his recharge, tiny hands reaching for small holds in Red's armor. And just like that, all Jazz's irritation was gone. His coding was well and truly awake and it took everything he had not to swoon over the soft sounds Prowl made.

"You did that on purpose," Jazz grouched. Red Alert's small smile returned but he didn't answer. Jazz turned away from him with a long sigh and activated the drain for the bath. As he looked over the cleanser settings, his coding, metaphorically, thrashed his aft from one side of the room to the other for his carelessness. The concentration of chemicals didn't even tingle his battle hardened armor, Prowl's armor, though, was a delicate covering for even more delicate internals. For a long few seconds he thought he would purge his tanks as his processor went through the horrific burns the sparkling could have gotten if he'd jumped into the bath when Jazz had asked. With shaking hands, he started refilling to bath with solution that was little more than water.

Keeping Prowl in his arms, Red Alert remained standing as the bath filled. Prowl woke up with the noise and looked around with a wide yawn and sleepy optics. Jazz felt his spark trying to melt out of its casing and almost smacked himself. If any of the other SpecOps saw him right now he'd never hear the end of it. "If you're going to take care of him, Jazz," Red Alert said softly. "You'll have to come to terms with your coding. You can't keep trying to shut it down, it's there for this purpose." Scooping a handful of water, Red Alert used his wet fingers to gently rub Prowl's delicate armor. Jazz opened his mouth to ask him why he didn't just sit down or dip Prowl in to loosen the muck when his coding hit him like one of Sideswipe's gattling punches. Over and over the coding screamed at him _NoNoNoNoNoNoNoNo!_ He had to sit down himself before he fell over. Red Alert smiled a little. "It's a bit more complicated than just 'keeping his intakes from flooding,'" he murmured.

"Yeah, I fragging see that now." Jazz rubbed his helm and watched what Red Alert was doing. He'd rather not endure a fight-or-flight panic response from his coding every time he came into the bath with Prowl. Better to learn from someone who had obviously not taken the pains that Jazz had to shut down his coding.

"Sparklings don't regulate their systems well enough to shut down their intakes like we do when we're submerged," Red Alert explained in his soft voice. "They don't have the backup systems that we do either, if water gets into primaries or auxiliaries they can drown. They can't regulate their temperature very well, they are sensitive to hot and cold on a level we're not fully aware of."

Jazz listened to his soft words like they were coming straight from Primus himself, his coding settled into a quiet buzz in the back of his processor, fully agreeing with everything the glitchy red mech had to say. "How the frag you know all this?" Jazz asked quietly.

Red Alert's fingers gently stroked Prowl's chevron. "It's all in your coding, maybe not word for word all that, but it's there. You just have to listen." Red Alert dumped another handful of water on Prowl's wings and started gently rubbing the dried energon from them. Prowl pressed close to Red Alert's chest and clicked-hummed-purred in such an adorable way Jazz thought he would offline. Red Alert crooned and hummed back at him as he continued to clean him. Prowl's recharge heavy optics flickered and shuttered, his little mouth opened wide in another yawn and as Red finished cleaning his wings he slipped into recharge with another soft click.

Flopping back with a hand over his visor Jazz fought the urge to slap himself across the face plates. How could anything be that slagging _cute_? It almost hurt his spark how adorable Prowl was and on the heels of that thought came the overwhelming need to have one of his own. "Oh frag no," he hissed. Sitting up and jumping out of the bath he started pacing, trying to rein in his coding. He could _not_ perform his primary function in the war if he was all starry eyed about sparklings and happily-ever-after. "Nope, no, nu-uh, _frag no_," he snarled under his breath.

Red Alert climbed out of the bath with Prowl still curled in recharge against his chest. Picking up a towel many sizes too big for the sparkling and the only kind they had, he started gently rubbing the water off. "Do you want me to keep him tonight?" he asked softly.

_No._ "Yes," Jazz said in a voice not even he believed. He very much wanted to snuggle with Prowl and listen to his quiet clicking. Squeezing his optics shut he wrestled with his coding and his higher functions. "I need…I can't be distracted with sparklings. If Prime needs me to do something…I need to get this coding dormant again, the sooner the better." Shaking his helm to get back some control over his processor he looked at Red and asked a bit belatedly, "You don't care do ya'? He wasn't a fan of Ratchet or any of the other medics or he'd still be in med bay."

"I don't mind at all," Red Alert said before guilt could settle in Jazz's processor. "Do you know if Ratchet has any low grade?"

"Wheeljack was workin' on some, probably done by now."

The small smile found Red Alert's faceplates again as he looked down at Prowl quietly clicking in his arms, his winglets flicking every now and then like he was dreaming of flying. Jazz almost reached for him, almost took back what he'd said, almost told his primary duties to frag a smelter, but he pulled back. "I'll go, uh, see if Wheeljack has the low grade ready an' bring it by." He slid past Red Alert before he could get wrapped up in watching Prowl again and went out the door without looking back. Much.

A/N:

Oh my, thank you everyone for the wonderful feedback! I really didn't expect all the favorites/follows/reviews so Thank You.

I've been gone so long, I forgot to leave a credit in Chp. 2 for the song used. It's "Hold Me Now" by Red. Very much love that song, highly recommend it.


	4. Chapter 4

Jazz's restless recharge was finally ended with an emergency page from Optimus. _"Officer meeting, A24."_ Jazz rolled out of his berth and tried to work out the kinks and cramps a long night of worrying about Prowl had left him with. Flexing his clawed toes he opened the door and decided a jog would do his body some good. As another bonus, he'd actually make the meeting on time.

Jogging did loosen up some of his joints, but the panicked attention it drew wasn't worth it. After calming the first shift mechs and femmes in the rec room who saw him he slipped into the meeting at his usual time. Fragging late.

"It could be a few orns before this mess is sorted," Ratchet said, not sparing a glance at Jazz. Not even Ironhide could be bothered to give him his usual glare, the ancient black mech's optics locked on the small sparkling curled against Red Alert's chest. Wheeljack, too, had his optics on Prowl, but looked more worried than dumbfounded. Jazz slid into his seat next to Red Alert and Prowl's head lifted enough he could peek at him. He clicked softly and ducked his head again. Jazz rubbed his optics, feigning his trademark I-Just-Woke-Up-Why-Am-I-Here look. It was too early for Prowl to be that cute. Too fragging early.

"That's Prowl?" Blaster said from across the table, completely out of the current conversation. Red Alert's optics dimmed in a scowl Blaster and Jazz were most familiar with. And as usual, Blaster either ignored it or missed it. "He doesn't look—"

"I know," Ratchet snapped. "His frame was dramatically modified at some point." Turning his irritated wrath on Optimus he said, "I need access to Prowl's medical files to know why." The Autobot commander's slightly bewildered optics stayed on Prowl, vainly trying to hide from all the mechs staring at him, while one optic ridge rose a fraction in a Well-Then-Do-It expression. Ratchet's optics, in turn, narrowed. If they'd been red he would have bore a striking resemblance to Megatron. "If I could I would have. They are classified above my clearance."

Now both Prime's optic ridges rose and he looked away from Prowl at his friend and the highest medical officer in the army. "That's not possible." The last word trailed off and he glanced at Prowl once more. Any other situation, Jazz would have been laughing until he overheated, but Prowl was visibly uncomfortable with all the attention and his coding was beginning to light up. _ProtectProtectProtectProtectProtect!_

"How's the CMO not have access to a soldier's medical files?" Blaster asked, catching up to the current conversation.

Ratchet was shaking his head before Blaster finished his question. "I have every file on him from his first enlistment diagnostic to his last, but nothing from before that. Not one byte from his juvenile, youngling, or sparkling years is open."

Optimus' optics glittered as he accessed the database, they flashed white once before he blinked them back to their usual dark blue. "I can't access them either," he said surprised. "His optics brightened a second before darkening once more. "An access request has been sent to whoever holds the files." His optic ridges lowered and he steepled his fingers under his chin. "Have you ever come across this before, Ratchet?"

"No, I haven't." Ratchet's fingers drummed on the table. "I had colleagues who worked more with high class. On occasion a politician would ask that their non-adult files be locked down if they had some kind of embarrassing injury or a speech glitch."

"Seems awful frivolous for Prowl," Ironhide rumbled. Ratchet nodded and then rubbed the side of his helm.

"Primus, you think the message went to him?" Blaster asked with an odd mixture of dread and laughter. All but Optimus looked at the sparkling who pressed even close to Red Alert's armor with a soft sound. Red Alert lifted his arm to shield more of the sparkling from their attention. Jazz's claws twitched on the table, the urge to scream and snarl at everyone frightening the sparkling beginning to sound like perfectly reasonable, sane, idea.

"I tracked part of the message route, it's not going to Prowl," Optimus said. His frown deepened. "If it goes to his creator or sire we could still have a problem. I don't know if either survived the Fall of Praxus. If they're not alive to give clearance is there another way to get into the files?"

Ratchet cycled a long intake. "I don't know, I'll have to contact Hornet, he worked the most with those self-centered glitches."

"Well, until we either get a living response or a notification of death, we need to decide what to tell the crew." Red Alert's voice was soft but the words still quick and clipped. Prowl lifted his head when he spoke long enough to verify he was still being stared at and then burrowed his under Red Alert's arm. Blaster's optic ridge rose and he snorted. Jazz dug his claws into the seams near his knee joint to keep himself seated and quiet. The sparkling wasn't in danger; he was in a room with the smartest, deadliest, most experienced warriors in the Autobot army. Still, the screaming mantra persisted. _ProtectProtectProtectProtectProtect!_

Blaster threw his hands up and leaned back in his chair. "Wheeljack. Done. That's all we need to say and they'll get it." Wheeljack cringed.

Red Alert's ice blue optics chilled. "No." The word was flat, hard, and silenced the room like a gunshot. All optics moved away from Prowl the usually glitchy security officer. "They cannot know this is Prowl." Jazz's processor took a break from warring with his coding to wonder what half-glitched conspiracy Red had cooked up overnight. "Prowl is helpless and vulnerable in every way. He has no weapons, no self-defense training, he can only walk a few steps, there's no way he could outrun something. Unless we can absolutely verify that _every_ communication link from public to private is secure we cannot tell the crew." He glanced at Blaster, the communication officer laughed once without humor and shook his head.

Red Alert's fingers gently stroked over Prowl's arm while he spoke. "The Decepticons hack our frequencies as often as we hack theirs, hence the reason we don't hold these meetings via comm. link. If you think for even a moment the crew won't be talking about this for the next septorn, either placing bets for how long it takes to get fixed or how many times Ratchet will have to put Wheeljack back together, you're glitched. It will take the Decepticons half as long to send someone over to find out just what exactly is going on here." Red Alert's voice stayed calm and measured and so utterly unlike Red Alert Jazz wondered if he wasn't still recharging.

And then Red Alert said, "It would be the work of a few seconds for Ravage to tear him apart. Prowl's exoform cannot protect him from any extreme temperatures. If Rumble or Frenzy gets onboard all they need to do is lock him in cold storage and he'll be dead before any of us think to look there." Every number, letter, and punctuation in Jazz's coding roared to life. His claws dug into the table as a solar flare of rage and panic eclipsed his processor. Ratchet's optics flickered to him in surprise but Jazz didn't have the awareness for damage control. He was ready to tear something apart, anything that might even remotely threaten the sparkling. All they had to do was drop him off on a Decepticon base and he'd win the war.

But Red Alert was still talking, either oblivious to Jazz's full blown _PROTECT_ episode or more intent on getting the sire sparks surrounding them to understand. "If he wanders into the washracks he can suffer burns from the cleansing solution, if he falls off something like a berth or couch he could break a wing. The _Ark_ is inherently dangerous to him and that is with every mech and femme on board compliant in keeping him safe. A full grown Decepticon could inadvertently kill him trying to maim one of us. We cannot tell the crew. _No one_ can know how vulnerable your second-in-command is right now, Prime."

In the silence that followed, one by one, every set of optics panned to Jazz's shaking frame, his systems humming and fans working to cool him. He couldn't even make a crack about it, every microchip of his higher processor needed to hold back the tide of _PROTECTPROTECTPROTECTPROTECT!_

"Creator?" Ironhide said with no shortage of surprise.

Ratchet scowled at him. "Does _anyone_ _else_ have something they'd like to tell their pit-slagging _CMO_ about? Anything else that should have been in your files when you fragging joined?"

"I fell down a flight of stairs when I was a youngling, popped my left optic out," came Blaster's cheeky reply. Ratchet's wrench missed his helm by centimeters and clanged off the wall. The unexpected loud sound startled Prowl and his frightened yelp broke the dam. Red Alert and Jazz snarled. The sparkling was afraid, hiding his head in his fellow creator's chest, and these bastard sons of the Unmaker were the reason why. No one scared the sparkling, no one hurt the sparkling, no one _looked_ at the sparkling the wrong fragging way or they'd have him to contend with. He snarled again, the other creator's cybercat growl mingling with his lower sound.

"Red Alert, Jazz," one of the other mechs said slowly, the one who had scared the sparkling. Jazz's armor locked down, every vulnerable seam hidden by overlapping plates so blades, claws, and teeth couldn't reach his softer endoform. His fellow creator did the same, battle mask sliding into place. He couldn't fight, not with the sparkling in his arms, he was a last line of defense for the sparkling. "Easy boys, easy," the same mech said. The sparkling made a quiet sound and he reached out to him with his spark. The rapid pulse of the sparkling's spark fluttered against his much older slow pulse, the bond stretched out to engulf the sparkling with the slow beat. He was safe, he would always be safe.

Movement caught Jazz's attention on his right, whipping his head around his battle mask snapped into place and he snarled at the bright red and gold mech. "Jazzman, it's me, it's Blaster." The words bounced off him, more useless than stones against his armor.

He felt more than saw his fellow creator stand and leave the room with the sparkling. The sparkling wasn't safe here, not with these mechs who frightened him. He needed to be out of the room, somewhere safe. The other creator would keep him safe, and he would tear apart anyone who tried to pursue. Not even the medic, Ratchet could follow. It was his stupid wrench throwing habit anyway that had scared Prowl.

Jazz blinked. Why were his battle systems online? Did he have his battle mask on? His armor locked down? He blinked again and looked to his left, Red Alert and Prowl were gone. He didn't hear any alarms so he didn't think they'd been attacked. The silent room made him edgy, cuing up some music on his internal speakers took the edge off. Cycling down his battle systems and unlocking his armor he looked around. Irohnhide, Optimus, Ratchet, and Blaster stared at him unmoving, unblinking, like their processors had locked up. "Where'd Red go?" And why was everyone acting so glitchy?

Blaster's laugh broke the awkward silence. "Are you serious? You glitch." He continued to cackle. "I was half a second from hiding under the table and now you're just business as usual." He dropped his head to the table and continued laughing. The door opened and everyone turned to see Red Alert walk back in with most of Prowl hidden in his arms. "Oh frag no," Blaster said, ducking under the table.

Red Alert dropped Prowl into Jazz's lap as he passed him and the sparkling squeaked in surprise but found a comfortable place to tuck himself against Jazz's armor. "Uh?" He didn't particularly mind; he'd spent half the night wondering how Prowl was doing, if he was recharging all right, if Red Alert had any music for him to listen to, if he was bored. It was like a pressure release having Prowl curled in his lap. Prowl clicked softly and his optics darkened with oncoming recharge. An odd flutter in Jazz's spark caught his attention and he briefly set aside the odd behavior of his fellow officers and focused on that. Prowl rested his head against Jazz's spark and chirped softly. Jazz's sensitive fingers stroked down Prowl's back feeling the rapid pulse of his spark that beat in time with the odd feeling he had in his spark. Bond? He hadn't had a bond in…since his creator and sire. When had he established a bond with Prowl?

"You're a Creator, Jazz," Red Alert said softly. "The sparkling doesn't have to be yours for you to establish a bond."

"Get outta my processor," Jazz mumbled. He needed to shut the bond down, he absolutely couldn't have a sparkling fluttering around in his spark while he was trying to sneak into Shockwave's lab or Megatron's throne room. Prowl's golden optics looked up at him when he noticed the withdrawal with such confusion and hurt Jazz almost punched himself in the face. Okay. He was a flexible mech, he could learn to mute or work around a bond. Prowl snuggled against him again with a quiet click.

"You're not gonna go nuclear again, are you, Jazzman?" Blaster asked, peeking out from under the table.

"That was my fault," Red Alert said. "My aggressive response triggered Jazz's coding and since it hasn't been online long it is more intense and harder to control."

Jazz tuned him out, mostly, and listened to Prowl clicking quietly against his chest. His delicate wings fluttered every now and then like petals in a breeze. How could he have let Red Alert take Prowl for the night? Had the sparkling had his morning energon yet? Did Red Alert check his firewalls and make sure they were still up and running? Had he missed him during the night?

"Jazz," a solemn voice said. "This is Primus, I need you to focus." He looked up and Blaster snickered. Jazz rolled his optics and lifted his head a bit more so he at least looked like he was paying attention.

"You were the only one on the dropship with Prowl, right?" Optimus asked Red Alert, not bothering with Blaster and Jazz. Red Alert dipped his chin a fraction, his optics dimming for a brief second before returning to their normal color. "So none of the others know yet how badly injured Prowl was _or_ if you brought anything else back with you." Optimus continued slowly. Red Alert canted his head, his optics flickering back and forth across the ceiling as he thought.

"We're near a neutral colony," Ratchet said slowly. "Prowl was…badly injured." Ratchet hunched his shoulders and a weary haunted look crossed his faceplates. "This odd side effect from the fuser probably saved him. Were he still adult I would advise he be moved to a terrestrial care facility." Jazz's tanks churned. In all the years he'd served with the cantankerous CMO he had only sent two mechs to terrestrial facilities. Even after Ratchet's patching they'd looked like they'd just been dragged off the field. More patch than alloy, hardly recognizable. Red Alert's faceplates didn't change but his hands curled, his thumb running over his immaculate fingers. Jazz was definitely not feeling well. Tightening his arm around Prowl he took refuge in the fluttering pulse against his chest and inside his spark. Prowl was okay. He was fine. As if reading his thoughts, or more likely, picking up on his emotions through their bond, Prowl chirped softly. Red Alert glanced at him and reached over to rub his back between his wing joints.

"So we tell them we sent Prowl off to the colony for recovery and…where does the sparkling come in, in all this?" Blaster asked.

"Armies are not limitless," Red Alert said softly. "And Decepticon enlistment numbers are dropping every vorn. They've been known in the past to abduct sparklings." That none of the missing had ever been located didn't need to be said. Jazz's spark clenched again.

"I don't feel right lying to them like that," Jazz said with a frown. Red Alert's logic was sound. The crew wouldn't intentionally compromise Prowl's safety, but they were gossip hounds and betting fiends. This would be all over their communication network and it didn't matter how small and weak Prowl was right now, there were plenty of Decepticons looking to tear out his spark.

"I think once they see him like this, they'll understand when we explain the deceit later," Red Alert said softly. And Jazz agreed with that, too. They might hiss and snarl for an orn or two, but they would understand.

"Well," Ratchet said wearily. "Let's get to it, they've been worrying about Prowl through the night, might as well give them some news." Jazz winced again. Sending Prowl off ship was a great cover story, except for the part where if he really had been sent away his life was still on the knife's edge, capable of going either way. They would still be worried.

Blaster leaned forward, bringing his chair to its normal upright position. "So what are we gonna call him? We can't exactly walk in there with that story and then introduce a sparkling named Prowl." The room quieted and all optics turned to the sparkling again, this time more quizzical than analytical. Jazz's coding stayed quiet.

Red Alert rubbed along the side of Prowl's helm where soft white and burnished gold highlighted the layers of grey. "Halo," he said softly. Jazz smiled down at the sparkling. Optics colored like ancient coins looked up at him, the highlights on his helm really did look like a crown of light.

"Halo," Jazz agreed.

When addressing all ship personnel in person, the only space big enough to fit them all was the dispensary. Mechs and femmes sat at the rows of orderly tables with anxiety levels high enough the room almost hummed. Ratchet stepped forward to address them first instead of Optimus. Red Alert, mostly shielded by Ironhide's large frame held Prowl once more. Red Alert had suggested he hold the sparkling during the announcement. Jazz couldn't think of a polite way to tell him to get his own fragging sparkling and had passed him over. It wasn't until he walked into the room with twitchy, anxious mechs and femmes that he appreciated how far ahead Red Alert thought. He was starting to rev up again, his coding agitated and uncertain if the sparkling should be in such a high stress environment. He knew if Prowl had actually been in his arms he'd have pulled a weapon. Too many mechs, too much stress, too many unknowns.

"I know you've been worried," Ratchet said. The room didn't quiet much more than it had before he spoke. Every mech and femme listened with blank faceplates, ready to hear the worst, already working through what their lives would be like without Prowl. "Prowl's gone to a terrestrial facility for recovery." Jazz felt a sympathetic pang in his own spark when some of the masks cracked. Hope and fear that their SIC was still alive, yet that could change in a spark pulse. "There were other…things we had to take care of last night or I would have informed you all then."

He didn't even have to glance at Optimus. After half a lifetime of working together, the Autobot Commander stepped in smoothly. Optimus did glance at Red Alert before he started speaking. "Prowl is in quite capable hands and while he is recovering, we have someone here who will need your care and concern." Interest swept through the ranks like an S-7 virus. Red Alert kept a secure hold on Prowl and took one step to the side so he was fully visible.

A grin threatened to spread across Jazz's face as realization moved from the front of the room to the back. "This is Halo," Red Alert said, his soft voice carried through the silent room. Prowl/Halo hid his faceplates against Red Alert's chest and folded his wings in.

"Sparkling…" Hound said, even from the back of the room his soft disbelieving voice carried like thunder.

"Yup," Blaster chirped. "I'd suggest keeping your vocals down and ground all wrench-like projectiles unless you want your faceplates ripped off." Ratchet's hand twitched like he was going for a wrench or scanner. The first two rows discreetly moved back from the tables so they could duck if need be.

Red Alert, ignoring Blaster, said, "New rules effective immediately. Secure _all_ weapons; bladed, projectile, and energy. Firing range, weight room, labs, wash racks, and cold storage are to remain closed and locked at all times." He looked directly at the twins. "No explosives outside of the firing range, period." Surprisingly, Sideswipe nodded without argument. Addressing the room again, Red Alert finished with, "Anyone found not following these rules will have a fate worse than a few orns in the brig." Almost as one, the assembled soldiers checked the weapons on their frames, the unfamiliar sound of safeties being clicked into place filling the silence. They may have their fun with Red, but when it came right down to it, a few orns in the brig was light punishment. When Red Alert got creative, nightmares were made. Ironhide had the temper and firepower to keep the sometimes rowdy crew in line, but Red Alert had the imagination and that was more terrifying than a plasma cannon in your face any day.

Optimus, Jazz was certain, was trying not to laugh as he addressed his troops once more, "Thank you for your cooperation with this unexpected event. We're working to return the sparkling as soon as possible, until then, be mindful of his fragile frame."

"Where's he staying?" Silverbolt asked. Of all the mechs and femmes on board he was one of the most experienced with young, having taken custody of Fireflight when he was just growing into his youngling plates.

"With myself and Jazz," Red Alert answered. Skeptical optics flickered to him and a smile he couldn't fully suppress lifted a corner of his mouth. If he was in the crowd looking back he wouldn't believe it either. _Responsible_ was not a word often associated with him, despite his rank.

Sideswipe tilted his head to the side, trying to get a better look at the sparkling since Red was now partially behind Ironhide and Optimus. "Do we get to meet him?" he asked, optics bright with interest.

"Why, you thinkin' you want one," someone snickered.

"The universe isn't ready for your progeny," Quickmix said with a slightly horrified expression.

Sideswipe didn't rise to the jeers. "I've never seen a sparkling before," he said simply. Jazz was willing to bet most of the crew was in the same position. Rare as sparklings were, they were kept on neutral colonies under heavy supervision and sometimes guarded. Not since the Decepticons destroyed the youth sectors had anyone been naïve enough to think their youngest and most vulnerable weren't targets. Red Alert stroked down Prowl's back. He probably needed to get used to thinking about the sparkling as Halo unless he accidently slipped.

"He's still quite nervous now," Red Alert said softly. "But you'll all get to meet him when he's comfortable." And that made Jazz nervous. None of his comrades would intentionally hurt the sparkling but Gentle and Soft Spoken were not a requirement for joining. Red Alert seemed calm enough about it though so he tried to keep his upbeat demeanor. The idea of meeting a sparkling put an excited buzz in the air as Optimus dismissed everyone back to their duties.

As soon as the last mech was out of the room Blaster whistled softly. "Man, every on-ship link just lit up like a fragging hypernova." He nodded at Red Alert. "Good call," he said, unusually solemn. "This is definitely going to get Decepticon attention and they're just talking about a sparkling they don't know. If they knew it was Prowl there would be even more traffic."

"Step up your own monitoring of Decepticon communications," Optimus said. "If they do send someone to try and infiltrate we've got to have all the lead we can get to keep Prowl safe." Blaster nodded in a distracted way, optics almost white as he scanned frequencies.

"Come on, Jazz," Red Alert said quietly, walking to the doors. "We need to coordinate our schedules so one of us is always with him." Jazz caught up to him easily and found Halo's sleepy optics fighting to stay open. His wings drooped around his shoulders in a display of exhaustion that was almost cute enough to offline a mech. Red Alert's cheek brushed his head, a small smile curving his mouth. "He's had quite the busy morning. Would you like to take point?"

Jazz laughed and opened the door, walking out first. He'd run security detail for Prime before Prowl took position as SIC and when he saw the mechs and femmes who happened to be having their conversations by the door the routine came back easily. Halo was too tired to be nervous and that helped Jazz keep his easygoing dodge-and-deflect momentum.

It didn't take long to get back to Red Alert's quarters and once inside Jazz let a huff of hot air leave his vents. It was a lot easier telling friends the sparkling needed a nap before they could ogle him than looking over strangers for weapons, but it was still tiring. "Well done," Red Alert said with a soft laugh.

Jazz leaned against the door, trying not to look too interested in the room. He had never been in Red Alert's quarters. As far as he knew, Prowl was the only one who had ever glimpsed the inside of his quarters. It was like entering an unexplored planet. It wasn't as austere as Jazz had thought it would be. The furniture was the same as his, military issued and all that, but he'd painted his a soft brown color. The original pale gray walls were still visible but the starkness had been softened with brushstrokes of darker grays and white. With the furniture spread against the backdrop it was easy to imagine they were in a foggy woodland. It was soft, close, and quiet; everything Red Alert needed when his glitch got the better of him.

Scattered on the floor were five small blocks. He bent down and picked one up turning it over. They were old, the finish beginning to chip off along the edges exposing the dull alloy underneath. On one side the block was a solid blue, not very remarkable, a little scratched but nothing else noteworthy. The opposite face was painted red. Another had a stenciled cybercat sitting on it and a muddog on the opposite side. There were letters on two sides and the final sides had numbers. "Where'd you get toys?" Jazz asked softly, mindful of Halo's quiet clicks as he cycled down for recharge. Jazz wished he would have kept some of his old toys, although, most of them were only fun in water.

"I've had them," Red Alert answered. "For a long time."

A/N:

Thank you for reading and reviewing :)


	5. Chapter 5

Jazz hefted Halo a little higher on his hip as he walked into the rec room. After two orns the crew was beginning to settle in with their youngest member and as they learned to soften their voices Halo became more curious than fearful. Stroking Halo's wings Jazz strolled over to a quiet table with Hound and Trailbreaker picking up their evening energon. Despite Trailbreaker's enormous size, his quiet voice and gentle demeanor made him one of the first mechs Halo was comfortable with. The sparkling chirped once in shy greeting and a slow smile spread across Trailbreaker's faceplates. "Evenin', heard you're warming up to be a little spitfire." His hand was larger than Halo's wings, but his fingers were gentle when he rubbed the sparkling's helm. Jazz sat down with exhaustion that was only partly feigned.

Why he had thought Halo would continue to be frightened and timid was a glitch Ratchet probably needed to look at. Halo was Prowl for Primus' sake and Prowl was stubborn, fearless, and more often than not utterly unmoved by anything the universe could throw at him. Jazz was beginning to find out the hard way those qualities were innate. Halo climbed off Jazz's lap and slid down the floor with a soft squeak when he landed on his rear. Rubbing part of his faceplates, Jazz kept an optic and a half on the sparkling. "I'ma be as glitched as Red before this is over." Getting a hand under Halo, he redirected the sparkling back to him when he tried to crawl away. Halo made a short hissing sound that Ratchet said would develop into the earth shaking growl Praxians and Seekers were known for in due time. "Why don't we go back to the joors you spent clinging to my armor afraid of your own shadow?" Jazz asked affectionately. Halo glanced up at him and then at the rest of the room with bright optics.

Jazz cast his optics around as well taking note of everyone in the room and anything on the floor that wasn't bolted down. At some point, Halo was going to get away from him, just like he had earlier in the orn, and the best Jazz could do was prepare. Blurr and Streetwise sat at corner table playing cards, talking and laughing at speeds only they and Bluestreak could understand. Having taken Red Alert's threat to heart, the usual stray projectile bullets, plas chargers, blades, and bomb making materials were nowhere to be seen. It was odd seeing the blue-grey tiled floor not strewn with materials from the war. The rest of the mechs were gathered around a couch at the other end of the room, extra chairs pulled up as others got off shift, watching a holovid. The twins Jazz watched for an extra second, Sideswipe had been on suspiciously good behavior the last two orns. Whether he was actually afraid of what Red Alert's punishment would be if the rules were broken or if, more likely, he was cooking up something truly spectacular was anyone's guess. The red twin didn't notice Jazz's attention as a fist flying action sequence blurred across the screen. Bumblebee, Bluestreak, and surprisingly, First Aid sat huddled together whispering and pointing at the screen, giggling when a rather unbelievable high flying kick was executed. Mirage, all aristocratic pretenses out the window, sat forward in his chair with his elbows on his knees absolutely riveted. Cliffjumper and Gears lay on their chests on the floor with their helms propped up by their hands. Inferno sat back in one chair and had his feet stretched out on another as he sipped his energon.

"Everything safe, sentinel?" Hound drawled teasingly. Jazz rolled his optics, the whole crew was having a field day with his creator spark.

"You try keeping track of him for more than a joor, he might as well have Mirage's cloaking tech," Jazz said, reaching down and thwarting another clumsy get away. Halo huffed and sat down peering around Jazz's legs at the crowd around the holovid.

Hound watched the sparkling with bright optics. "How's Red fair with 'em? I've never seen him try to give Red the slip." Halo looked up at Hound with wide optics and chirruped at him before crawling around Jazz's legs to the old scout. Hound scooped him up without reservation. Having been a biologist before the war broke out he was accustomed to handling everything from fragile new blooms to, sedated, cybercats of all kinds. He was one of the few who didn't balk at picking up the sparkling. Once in Hound's lap, Halo chirped and clicked with the cadence of speech and looked at Hound expectantly when he paused. Hound answered each string of gibberish with soft "uh huh," and "oh really," until Halo finished his one-sided conversation.

Jazz sat back in his chair, able to relax a breem with someone else holding the sparkling. "I dunno how Red does it. I mean, he crawls away from me and I pretty much glitch for ten breems 'til I find 'em. He crawls away from Red and in less than a breem he's got 'em back, no panic, no fuss. Nothin'." He sighed wistfully, "he just makes it look so fraggin' easy."

"Red _is_ the security director," Trailbreaker pointed out. "He's probably got every sensor in his body trained on that sparkling." Jazz laughed not certain if it was in mirth or self-derision.

"That's the thing that gets me," Jazz said, putting his head in his hands, not quite covering his face. Halo was beginning to fidget on Hound's lap, a sure sign he was about to make a break. "I'm head of special operations an' I can't keep track of a sparkling!" Trailbreaker gave him a long appraising look and then sat back in his chair laughing. "He's single-handedly destroying my reputation," Jazz continued to lament. Hound chuckled at that. Jazz looked up and blinked. "Hound…where's the sparkling?" Hound blinked and looked down at his empty lap. The old scout and expert tracker slowly looked down and under his chair. Trailbreaker stared with wide optics unblinking. Jazz kept a slightly hysterical giggle at bay through willpower alone.

Trailbreaker was not as successful. "Holy frag, he just…" his breathless laugh punctuated every word. Both scouts, after clearing the immediate area, began scanning the room with sharp optics. With every escape, Jazz tried to find a pattern to Halo's movements, but the sparkling was a master. He could probably learn a thing or two from him. Streetwise and Smokescreen were still focused on their game, the surest sign the sparkling wasn't within arm's length of them. Most mechs and femmes had a tendency to freeze if the sparkling wandered too close.

"There's the glitch," Hound said. Jazz turned in his seat to follow his gaze to the crowd around the holovid. Halo crawled between Bumblebee and Mirage, head swiveling back and forth like he was looking for something. He did a double take and then got on his unsteady legs and ran two steps to the couch where the twins sat.

Halo sat down between Sunstreaker's legs and chirped at him. The entire rec room dropped into silence. Jazz tried to breathe, ready to put his coding in a chokehold if it went off. Tension hummed on every wire and strut in his body but he was afraid if he tried to move before his coding went apocalyptic he wouldn't be able to get himself under control. Sunstreaker tilted his head watching the sparkling watch him, clearly not as invested in the movie as he had seemed. Sideswipe's optics brightened with curiosity but he didn't make a grab for the sparkling. Halo chirped again and stood up on shaky legs long enough to grab hold of the shining armor below Sunstreaker's knee. The silence became brittle, poised on a knife's edge. Everyone's intakes seemed to have stopped working at the same time.

Sunstreaker tilted his head and then sighed softly. Large clawed hands reached down to Halo. Careful of his delicate wings, Sunstreaker scooped him up and put him on his lap. Jazz waited. And waited. But his coding stayed quiet. No screaming instinct tried to overtake him. The quiet hum was the usual apprehension he had when others handled Halo. Halo squeak-chirruped-clicked happily on Sunstreaker's lap. Sideswipe clicked back at him and Halo's wings perked up in interest. He buzzed and twittered and Sideswipe responded in kind. Crawling to the other side of Sunstreaker's lap so he could be closer to the red twin, Halo continued clicking gibberish. The red twin's grin was wide enough to show most of his teeth.

"Jazz?" Hound asked softly.

Jazz shrugged in disbelief. "I'm not freaking out. How am I not glitching right now? I snarled at Ironhide yester-orn but not one fraggin' blip right now." His apprehension dissolved fully into confusion. "Do I need to see if I'm glitchin' when I'm not glitchin' when I should be glitchin'?" Sunstreaker ignored everyone looking at him and his brother while Halo happily clicked back and forth with Sideswipe. An alarm chimed in his helm before he could spiral further. Red Alert's shift was up and he was probably on his way to the rec room.

Jazz needed to get Halo back ASAP. Red had only glitched the one time in the meeting with the other officers, but he wasn't sure if his self-control would extend to the two most reckless, homicidal, rough and tumble melee warriors the Autobot army had to offer.

"Jazz, why do you look like you're about to faint?" Red Alert asked. Jazz almost jumped through two decks.

"Red! What? What are you doin' here, you're early, you never leave security early." Jazz snapped his mouth shut to cut off the panicked overflow of words that would make Bluestreak and Blurr proud.

Red Alert canted his head with a ghost of confusion on his faceplates. "You traded shifts with Blaster today, you're due in communications in five breems."

"Oh…slag," Jazz stared past Red Alert at the door, cursing his past self for making the switch. Red hadn't asked where Halo was though. There was no way he hadn't noticed the sparkling not on his lap. Did he think Trailbreaker or Hound had him? He needed to distract him for half a breem so he could swoop in and grab Halo back from the Twin Terrors and pretend like this had never ever happened.

The plan was bullet proof, until Halo noticed Red in the room and chirped at him. Jazz froze, utterly. He was pretty sure his spark stopped pulsing and his energon pump stalled. He didn't move, couldn't even fire a synapse to come up with an excuse as to why Halo was with the twins. Red smiled and walked over to the couch where Halo clicked and buzzed with excitement. "Hello, spark. I hope Jazz didn't make you listen to his music all day." Sunstreaker looked up when Red Alert was next to him.

"Will you take him before he scuffs up my paint more," he grumbled. With the same care as before he picked Halo up and handed him to Red. Sideswipe chirped a farewell and Halo twittered at him. Halo clicked at Sunstreaker, a small confused frown on his faceplates. Sunstreaker sighed and looked up at him. "Fine." He rolled his optics but Halo relaxed against Red Alert's chest and chirruped at him.

Jazz remained frozen as Red Alert took a seat with Halo still buzzing and clicking. "Jazz, what is wrong with you?"

"You're not glitchin'?" Jazz said with an undercurrent of static in his vocalizer. Red Alert pulled out a bottled ration of low grade Wheeljack had made just for Halo. Halo's optics brightened as he reached for it. "You just picked up Halo from the Twin Terrors an' you're perfectly fine wit' that?"

Red smiled, whether that was at Jazz or Halo happily draining his bottle, was hard to tell. "Jazz," Red Alert said softly, "since your coding hasn't been online very long it's still slowly booting up the finer points of its system. My guess is that in another septorn you'll be able to identify every creator spark onboard without them saying anything." Jazz's vocalizer fuzzed with static.

"Red," Trailbreaker said slowly, "are you trying to tell me one of the twins is a creator spark?"

Red Alert kept most of his attention on Halo but looked up every few words. "It's really not that far-fetched. They are spark twins, a single spark split in two. They are mirror images of each other, exactly the same but opposite in most regards. So if one is a sire, logically, the other will be a creator." The three mechs continued to stare at him, dumbfounded. Jazz had never really thought about what being spark twins meant. They were rare, rare to the point of being only a myth, but he more often than not just thought of them as two mechs who happened to look alike. They had some things in common, ferocity being number one, but aside from that handful of traits and physically they were as different as…well, Sunny and Sides.

Hound was the first to move, he nodded slowly. "When ya' break it down like that it does make sense."

"I'm betting Sides," Trailbreaker said. Jazz didn't think there was another option, but the small smile on Red Alert's face made him glance at the twins once more.

A/N: So sorry for the long update wait, we just moved and my internet access has been patchy. But thank you again for all the wonderful review and the follows/favorites. I really had no idea so many people were going to like this. So thank you :)


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: In response to the confusion on some of my terminology, here's a quick breakdown on why I use Sire/Creator instead of Carrier/Creator.

Personally, I don't like the term Carrier as it is inherently passive. It takes two to create a spark, one may carry the spark, but in the act of creation the work is equal. I chose to use Creator in place of Carrier in a sense that it's the Creator's spark that creates the spark shard to be carried. I use Sire to signify mechs/femmes that cannot create spark shards; they only supply the raw genetic material for creating spark shards. So Creators are the same thing as Carriers, I just don't like the passivity of the word Carrier.

"Jazz, need you in communications for emergency contact," Blaster's unusually serious voice had Jazz hoisting Halo into his arms and moving at top speed to communications. Halo twittered and clicked in surprise as the walls rushed by. Mornings with Jazz were always relaxed and quiet and this mad dash through the halls was an interesting and frightening change. His tiny spark pulse fluttered against Jazz's. Keeping his emotions calm from practice, Jazz tried not to come up with worst-case-scenarios as he headed for the communications room.

"Jazz!" Hound caught him as he zipped around a corner, only one hall away from the communications room. One orn, Primus would finally take pity on him and allow him to get somewhere on time. "What…is it Prowl?" Hound asked in a hoarse whisper. Jazz's vents skipped, stalled, and started again.

"Primus, no!" Jazz said breathlessly. "No, no, no, Prowl is okay, this is, uh, something else. Sorry. Sorry, Hound. I didn't mean to scare ya' like that. But I gotta go." He broke into his sprint again and made it to the comm. room without further incident. He liked being head of special operations, it was him and his teams that went in and got the information needed to save lives. Another perk, most of the time, no one questioned his mad dashes through the halls. And if they did, he didn't need anything more than a quick "business" to end any and all questions of what he was doing.

Blaster sat at the communications panel with a slight frown on his face as he concentrated on setting up every bit of encryption security they had. "Prowl's Sire has finally contacted Optimus," Red Alert said quietly as Jazz came to a sliding stop next to him. "Whoever he is, he has a fair bit of encryption on his end as well. This will have to be short or we'll have every Decepticon in the galaxy trying to get in on what's happening." It was the catch-22 of intelligence. Heavily encoded messages were the crème de la crème of intel and both sides were always on the lookout for them. But at the same time, the usual encryption that wouldn't catch more than a passing glance could easily be deciphered by even amateurs.

"Going live in thirty ticks," Blaster said tersely. His cassettes sat around his feet, all of them hooked up to various wires helping him scan frequencies and block attacks, and hopefully, give him enough of a warning that if Soundwave found a way in they could terminate the connection before he gleaned anything valuable. Jazz felt his spark starting to accelerate with familiar anticipation. Sometimes the comm. room could be just as spark pounding as a live battlefield.

The screen fuzzed as codes of encryption zipped through before resolving into a stern pale colored Praxian. Jazz blinked, momentarily disoriented by the complete lack of familiarity. With a wide face and optics his facial structure wasn't even close to Prowl's. The wings held archly over his shoulders didn't look like young Prowl's or adult' Prowl's. "Optimus Prime," he greeted in a voice just as alien as the rest of him. How could Prowl not carry even a microchip of his Sire's characteristics? Even if he took more after his Creator, there should have been something familiar about him. "I am Ortho, I was quite surprised to receive your message. I do wish we were closer so this meeting could be held in a more formal setting." Jazz's optics picked up every detail of the mech, every bit of his training coming to the fore as he searched for anything that could be Prowl in his unconscious wing movements, his mannerisms, word choice.

Optimus volleyed the pleasantries well and Jazz came back to the conversation when the Autobot leader shifted his weight a little to his right. It was an unconscious motion he did any time he was about to walk into an uncomfortable or possibly confrontational situation. "I will preface this by saying Prowl is unharmed, but there has been an accident," Optimus said carefully.

Ortho's head tilted a little but there was little else in the way of reaction. _"That is not Prowl's Sire,"_ he said to Red via their comm. link. The narrowing of Ortho's optics was not indicative of concern but of suspicion. Red Alert's face didn't change but there was a shift in his posture, a silent agreement with Jazz's assessment.

Stepping to the side to reveal Jazz with Prowl tucked against his side Ortho's optics flickered and then widened in shock. "What have you done to him?" Ortho hissed, his wings rose high above his shoulders. Prowl's small head ducked under Jazz's chin, his tiny wings closing around his body protectively. Jazz lifted a lip but a sharp look from Optimus kept him from growling. Red Alert's optics narrowed in focus as the pale Praxian continued to fume. "Primus, has anyone seen him like this?"

"We have taken care to keep his true identity concealed." Optimus tried to placate the irate mech.

"We're working to reverse what has happened, but in the interim I need access to Prowl's medical files," Ratchet continued as if he and Prime were one speaker. "If we're to care for him properly I need to know more about his unique system signatures and requirements."

Ortho's pressed two fingers against his optics. "Yes, yes, yes, I've sent them as well as the required modifications." Pulling his hands away from his face again his optics narrowed at Prowl. Jazz did growl at him and it wasn't just his Creator coding prodding his aggression. It was little wonder Prowl never mentioned his Sire. The mech made Jazz want to punch something.

A soft hand on his shoulder was a gentle warning before Red Alert easily lifted the limp sparkling from his arms. Jazz didn't like it, but as soon as Prowl was out of his arms his anger waned to annoyed irritation. "Modifications?" Red Alert asked softly. Gentle fingers stroked along the gold highlights around Prowl's head.

Ortho snapped his wings back, from what Jazz understood of Bluestreak's body language he seemed either surprised or aghast. "Yes! Primus, he's a _Praxian_. He can't be seen like that; it's a disgrace."

Red Alert flicked his optics up while keeping his head close to Prowl's. "He will _not_ be modified in any way you arrogant glitch." Jazz had to admire the quiet viciousness in his voice. If the 'cons ever heard him like that in interrogation they'd get all the information they wanted. Not for the first time, he had to wonder where the frag Red was from. His frame said Gygax, but his demeanor didn't fit the card.

The room quieted, Ratchet and Optimus blinking in surprised and Ortho staring, wings slack in disbelief. "How…_dare_ you," Ortho hissed, blue optics flashing white with fury. "That is not your decision to make, you are not his Sire!"

"Neither are you." And with that, Red Alert turned and left the room. Ortho's mouth fell open and Jazz felt like his processor was rebooting. Blaster stared slack jawed at the door, optics bright, mouth beginning to curve into a smile that promised uproarious laughter. Optimus rubbed above his optic ridge while Ratchet's optics stayed bright as he read through the files sent to him. The dark glower on his face kept Jazz's mirth in check.

As soon as Optimus awkwardly signed off, Ratchet hissed. Jazz and Blaster both jumped back. In theory, everyone knew Ratchet could hiss. It was his Ankmorian heritage that gave him his short temper and bottomless tanks for high grade. But to hear the signature sound come out of Ratchet who preferred to dent and throw things made it even more terrifying. "Ratchet?" Optimus asked with no shortage of surprise.

Ratchet made a feral sound caught somewhere between another hiss and curse. "Red Alert was right, that miserable son of the Unmaker has no right to even _look_ at Prowl much less decide for his health and wellbeing." Whipping around he jabbed the keyboard next to Blaster, who froze completely while the wrathful medic was within arm's reach. "Do you see this?" His sibilant words had Blaster slowly edging away. The data scrolling across the screen that meant so much to Ratchet was just a long list of dates and unfamiliar phrases to Jazz.

"What is it?" Blaster asked when he was at a safe distance. He broke cover and dove behind Jazz when the medic snarled.

"They're surgeries! A dozen before Prowl was even a _youngling_, not even adult mechs can have that many surgeries in that short period of time. _He is lucky to be alive!_" Ratchet's fury had Optimus taking a step back but Jazz held his ground as the dates continued to scroll along the screen.

Blaster chanced looking out from behind his safe haven to look at the screen as well. "All of those?" he said softly. "Every line is a surgery? For what? I thought you said he was fine at his last check up."

"He is," Ratchet snapped. "All of this slag is cosmetic." His blue optics darkened to a tank churning purple. "Helm modifications, facial realignment, cable and gear modifications in his shoulders and hips, _they docked his fragging wings!_" Fury churned the silence of the room, Jazz felt his optics darkening to match Ratchet's. "It's little fragging wonder Prowl walks around here like his joints are half frozen, he hardly has an original part left. Even his pit-slagging _spark chamber_ was modified when they narrowed his shoulders." The usual rock steady medic's hands shook as he shut down the data stream. "Everything, _everything_, from the inside out has been changed in some way to make him a Praxian. That glitch was willing to kill a sparkling to make him look the part and medics were complicit in it." Ratchet's optics began to lose their purple tint as his volcanic fury cooled to something even deadlier. "And I don't care if I have to scrap them myself, they will _never_ touch another living creature again."

"Ratchet," Optimus said quietly. "That is a conversation for another time, when Prowl is back to the age he should be. Our concern now is to keep him healthy until Wheeljack has reverse engineered the fuser." Ratchet flexed his strong hands and gave a curt nod but his optics remained icy.

Jazz spun and left the room, his frame, his spark still humming with rage. The halls quieted and cleared as his wrath percolated through the normally jovial air. Mechs and femmes kept well out of his way and didn't hazard asking questions. The soft flutter of a rapid pulse against his spark guided him through the maze of halls until he reached Red Alert's room.

He didn't realize he was staring at the door until it opened and Red Alert stood in front of him with Halo in his arms. The sparkling didn't give him his usual chipper greeting but hid his head in Red Alert's shoulder. "He knows you're angry, Jazz, and he is not yet old enough to discern if the anger is directed at him or elsewhere." Red Alert said without preamble. The words punctured his bubble of fury.

"Nah, spark, I'm not mad at you," he whispered. He reached out through the bond to soothe the quiet sparkling and Halo lifted his head. Taking him from Red Alert, he held the sparkling as tight as he dared, crooning softly until Halo's wings loosened. "No one's gonna hurt you. No one's gonna change you," he promised.

Red Alert stepped out of his room into the hall with Jazz. "I was on my way to get his energon and certainly everyone will feel better if they see you as yourself and not the Unmaker reincarnate stalking through the halls."

Jazz cringed a little and then nuzzled Halo's head until the sparkling giggled and ducked his head away. "You don't understand the extent of those 'modifications', Red," Jazz said. Halo's tiny claws dug into his armor, finding familiar holds as they started walking. His wings spread and folded more comfortably on his back. Jazz ran a gentle hand over his wings and down a leg and tickled his small foot until he giggled again. Red Alert's optics roamed over Halo's small frame.

"I can guess most of them," he said softly.

Jazz stopped walking before they left the quiet hall of the officers' quarters and squeezed Halo tight against him once more. "Ratchet said they could've killed him. This isn't just the coding glitchin'," Jazz said offlining his optics and focusing on the small spark pulse against his both through the bond and through their physical contact. "They almost killed him. Prowl. Can ya' imagine what our lives would be without him?" Optimus may well be the spark of the army, the pulse that kept them fighting, but Prowl was the energon flowing through them. Whether they thought about it or not, Prowl was in their lives every orn be it from selecting shift partners or planning battles he was what kept them whole.

"No," Red Alert said softly. "And that is why Ortho is no longer in charge of his care." Jazz onlined his optics and took a calming breath. Halo clicked softly in his arms, warm and comfortable. "From now on, his family will decide what is best for him."

Jazz did feel better once he had some energon in him and Halo was twittering on his lap. His bright blue optics roamed over the dispensary as he clicked and chirped gibberish. Occasionally his chirps dissolved into soft purrs when Red Alert rubbed under his chin or along the side of his head. "Talks more than Bluestreak," he murmured with a smile. A rare full smile lit Red's face.

"I still have a few reports to file, the interruption this morning has me behind." Red Alert stood once his cube was gone.

"Want me to bring him to you when I'm on?" Jazz asked. Halo reached for Red with a beseeching click. The security director picked him up and pressed their foreheads together.

"If you can," he responded softly. "If not, I'll come to you."

Jazz sighed, "I'm really not always _that_ late." Red didn't say anything but the look he gave Jazz didn't need words. "I'm not," Jazz said indignantly. Red handed Halo back to the saboteur with another wordless glance, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth and left to finish his shift.

Jazz lay back on the floor of the rec room while Halo amused himself by scaling Jazz's small frame. Sticking a hand under his head he kept most of his attention on the sparkling clambering across his chest and some of it on the cheesy holovid the other mechs were watching. The twins had been the ones to change it from the energon, 'facing, and violence vid to the campy special, a surprise to the mechs who hadn't believed the rumors of the twins actually holding the sparkling. Halo's sharp claws dug into a seam in his shoulder as he tried to crawl down Jazz's outstretched arm like a tightrope. Wincing, he guided Halo back to his chest and made a low growl that vibrated his frame. The sparkling chirped and giggled at the odd feeling until Jazz started laughing too.

"Primus, I don't know which is worse, this vid or you two," Blaster said. Jazz realized no one was watching the holovid anymore but him and Halo. Halo squeaked and twittered when he noticed the attention. Sideswipe responded in kind with a loud laugh at the end. Rolling off the couch, and smacking his brother in the head in the process, he hit the floor and rattled off another string of gibberish. Halo's head tilted to and fro while he listened and he chirped back. Sideswipe's crooked fanged smile promised mischief when he chirruped back. Halo crawled off Jazz and whistled twice, his small wings fluttering.

"What're you doin', Sides?" Jazz asked with a trace of weariness. The red twin laughed and whistled back at Halo before rolling onto his side in a fit of laughter. Halo's wings rose high over his shoulders and his back arched. With a sharp yip he charged the red twin hissing. "Halo!" Jazz rolled to his feet and tried to grab the wayward sparkling but he was already out of reach. Halo couldn't walk on two legs more than a few steps, but Jazz hadn't realized he could run like a cybercat on his legs and hands. It was trick Sideswipe didn't know either. His laughter was cut short when Halo pounced on his head.

"Ack! Sunny, get him off! Get him off!" Sideswipe covered his sensitive horns but didn't try to get the sparkling off him. Halo hissed and head-butted his arm, wings high and back arched. "Sunny, do something! He's glitched," Sideswipe sputtered. Whatever he said next was lost in Blaster's guffawing laughter.

"Don't call me Sunny," the yellow twin responded optics returning to the cheesy holovid. Halo stalked back and forth in front of Sideswipe still hissing and yipping. Sideswipe moved one arm enough he could peek out at the sparkling and made an obnoxious noise. Halo dropped down into a low crouch and sprang on him again with a high whistle. Sideswipe shrieked and laughed as the sparkling nipped his fingers and dug his tiny claws into his thick armor.

"Sides, what are ya—Halo! Will ya' stop? Primus." Jazz tried to grab his sweet sparkling turned Unmaker but Halo jumped out of his reach again and bit one of Sideswipe's hip struts. The red twin squealed and laughed. Halo's claws dug in and he climbed over the twin still hissing and squeaking ferociously.

"Ow! He's biting my back," Sideswipe yelped. "That's playing dirty, glitch." He twittered and chirped while Halo hissed and yipped. "Oww, he's got his claws in my neck, Primus, you're a vicious little thing!" He tried to cover his neck more with his hands but as soon as he moved Halo bit his finger setting off a round of cursing.

Jazz made another grab for Halo as he nipped the twin's spinal relay and shoulders. "Will ya' stop movin'," he snapped.

"He's not hurt," Sunstreaker said with an implied optic roll.

Jazz shot a dark look at the shining yellow twin. "I'm not worried about your frontliner brother, Sunstreaker."

Sunstreaker rolled his head to the side and said, "Halo, leave the glitch alone." To his shock, Halo backed away from the red twin with his tiny fangs bared. Hissing once more, he climbed up the back of the couch and down into the spot Sideswipe had vacated. Wings still fluffed and a few plates along the back of his helm raised he continued to twitter and squeak with a pout on his face.

Jazz glared down at the red twin laughing on the floor. "What the frag didja do?"

Cautiously uncurling one finger at a time, Sideswipe stayed on his side still giggling at random. "Ah, c'mon Jazz, he's not hurt." Jazz folded his arms and the red twin sat up investigating the small scratches Halo had inflicted on his paint. "I was just havin' some fun with him. It's a game me an' Sunny used to play. It was just a little trash talkin', nothing bad, promise." To prove his point he chirped at Halo. The sparkling looked over the back of the couch with narrowed optics and yipped at him. Sideswipe almost fell over laughing again.

"That was a game?" Blaster said with a lip curled. "What was the point?"

Sunstreaker snorted. "Defend your ground. It's easier when everyone's the same size." He reached back and swatted his brother's head when he stood. Sideswipe bared his teeth but didn't retaliate. Halo left the empty spot in favor of curling up on Sunstreaker's lap. Sideswipe took his seat back but when he tried to lean against his brother Halo nipped his arm and hissed.

"Hey, no, he's my brother, you can't have him," the red twin said. Halo flared his wings and snapped his teeth.

"Tough break," Sunstreaker said with a toothy grin. When Sideswipe glared at his brother, Halo found a more comfortable position on Sunstreaker's lap and curled up in his wings. Sunstreaker's heavily scarred and clawed hand stroked gently down Halo's back. Jazz's alarm for his shift went off. Halo clicked quietly in Sunstreaker's lap, through their spark bond, he could feel the sparkling's spark pulse beginning to slow as he dropped into recharge.

"I gotta go, I'll let Red know he's here." The words were out of his mouth before Jazz really processed what he was saying. Blaster turned his entire frame to look at him. But Jazz's coding stayed quiet. Halo was safe with the twins. Others might be in perpetual danger, but the sparkling was safe. With a shrug to Blaster he stretched his back strut and sent a message to Red Alert letting him know where Halo was recharging.

A/N: So sorry for the long update! Thank you again for all the follows/favorites/reviews. I'm definitely looking forward to getting some more stories up after this one.


	7. Chapter 7

"How long we at this base?" Jazz asked Ironhide as the docks came into view. He itched to hold Halo, but the sparkling was with Ratchet and Wheeljack for another diagnostic.

Ironhide shrugged a massive shoulder. "Prowl has us scheduled for a septorn. Might be longer without him there to keep everyone on task." He made an irritated sound but no matter how much he huffed and puffed, they needed to resupply before heading out into the void once more. Usually Jazz liked shore leave, lighter duties and solid ground beneath his feet, not to mention catching up with mechs he hadn't seen in vorns. But his coding wasn't as thrilled about the hundreds of new mechs on an unfamiliar planet in an unfamiliar base.

He and Red had decided Halo would be kept on ship as much as possible. Not only, had Ratchet pointed out, were his firewalls unaccustomed to the base's resident viruses, but this was a busy base on the fringe of the populated galaxy. The mechs and femmes residing there could have their own viruses they weren't even aware of carrying. And then there were the massive feet and heavy bodies always going to and from places. If Halo got under foot his injuries would be severe. A pensive silence fell between them as the _Ark_ made its final descent to the crowded base.

Flexing his hands, Jazz rubbed his optic ridge as the hundreds of personnel running the base became individuals instead of a coordinated mass of bodies. "This is gonna be a fraggin' long septorn," he muttered. Before Ironhide could do more than grunt his agreement, an emergency message from Ratchet chimed in his HUD. He was on his way to the med bay before he even read the text. _Officer meeting, med bay. Now._ Reaching out to Halo his spark pulse slowed when he felt only drowsy irritation. He'd gotten past his fear of Ratchet and the med bay but he still wasn't pleased with his regular checkups.

Ironhide's heavy steps thundered behind him. "Sparkling okay?" the gruff mech asked. Jazz nodded.

"It's past his nap time, but he's not scared or hurt." If Ratchet just wanted to go over the virus protocols with them _again_, Jazz was going to feed the medic his wrench.

Red Alert and Blaster beat them to the med bay, Red holding a peacefully napping Halo and Blaster standing impatiently by the door. Wheeljack paced circles around a med berth, fins flashing almost white with anxiety. Optimus was the last to arrive and once he was in the med bay doors closed and locked with a loud click that had Jazz looking for other exit options.

"Well, that's not a terrifying sound," Blaster said conversationally. "I can't believe so many mechs are afraid of med bays."

"Mute it," Ratchet snapped. "There's a problem with Halo." Every sensor Jazz had focused on the sparkling in Red Alert's arms. Red's optics snapped up to stare at Ratchet and Blaster edged a little closer to Optimus when his optics flashed cold blue. Ratchet grabbed Wheeljack and pulled him out of his pacing cycle.

"Well, my initial concern with the reversal of Prowl's age was that his adult memories might have been erased, but after Ratchet and I both had a chance to examine him we found a portion of his processor with hyper-compressed files and concluded that he still had all of his memories, he just couldn't access them." The inventor took a breath.

"The files are beginning to show signs of instability," Ratchet finished. "If they become accessible to the rest of Prowl's young processor the amount of information could cause a complete collapse of all his processor functions. He could die."

Jazz felt a growl building in his chest and did his best to keep it there. Red Alert's optics flashed again and his arm tightened around Halo's small body. Blaster moved completely behind Optimus. "So you called me down here for what? Glitch my coding?" Jazz snapped doing his best to hold back the screaming tide of _ProtectProtectProtectProtect!_

"If this instability gets worse I will have to put him in a stasis lock until Wheeljack works this mess out," Ratchet growled back. "Any abnormal behaviors, mood swings, lethargy, unexplained pain and you get his aft to this med bay." Jazz rubbed his face with both hands trying to wrangle himself.

"Open the door, Ratchet," Red Alert said. "I don't like being locked in rooms I don't know the codes for and this news is not doing my glitch any favors." He slid off the med berth with Halo. He held the recharging sparkling out to Jazz. "I'll feel better when the door is open," he said when Jazz hesitated. That was all the coaxing Jazz needed. Halo snuggled against him with a soft squeak and his coding shut down. Sparkling was fine, mostly. He was safe at least. If he needed medical attention Jazz would get him to the med bay, until then, he was safe with him. The door clicked again and slid open. Red Alert sighed softly and rolled his shoulders. "We should be docking within the joor, I need to synchronize security systems," he said softly to Jazz.

"Got 'em," Jazz answered looking down at Halo's peaceful face. "How curious do you think he'll be about this base?" He wasn't necessarily hoping Halo would be afraid of the unfamiliar mechs, but it would be easier to keep track of him if he was glued to Jazz's side as he had been his first orns on the _Ark_.

Red Alert gave him a wry smile. "I would suggest you practice your sparkling tracking skills while you know where he is." And with that he left for the security room.

Blaster left his place behind Optimus and left the med bay at Jazz's side. Jazz sighed with a touch of irritation. "How much you think I'd have to pay Hound to be my personal sparkling tracker?" he asked, not sure himself if it was a joke. A shudder ran through the ship as the docking sequence initiated. "Frag me," he muttered. "Longest septorn of my life starts in half a joor." Blaster covered his laugh so he wouldn't wake Halo.

A/N: Sorry this one's short, the next chapter will be longer with a few surprises. Chapter warnings will be posted at the top. But, thank you for the follows/favorites/reviews. This story has been a most welcome return to the fanfiction community :)


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